


Life after Exile

by AppleSoda



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Character Study, Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSoda/pseuds/AppleSoda
Summary: During an afternoon at camp, Conrad strikes up a conversation with the army's resident sniper, and finds himself talking about more than he'd prepared for.





	Life after Exile

“There,” With the stub of a pencil, Conrad checked the last thing off his to-do list, and set the piece of paper down atop the trunk of weapons he had to maintain. Beside him was his steed, fed and brushed, and down the road in the encampment were the replenished larders. If anything was amiss, he noticed right away.

 

For a long time, he had to do without much of pages, squires and servants. But even with the luxury of a well-stocked army, he couldn’t ever quit the habits that had helped him survive.

 

As Conrad left his tent and prepared to log what had been completed, he realized he wasn’t alone.

 

Leon was sitting before the broad, flat portable table that was used for just about everything— war councils on days before they rode into battle, meals after hunting trips and excursions into towns, and games, whenever Kamui or Saber drew decks of cards from their packs, usually with a bottle of liquor as well.

 

The deadeye, for all his skill with a bow, was definitely one of the fussier members of Celica’s army. Conrad had seen courtiers in his short time at the castle complain about humidity or dryness making their skin break out, or get snippy at a merchant for getting an order wrong. Sometimes, he wondered if Leon had been one of those courtiers in another life, destined to have a cushier life than one of a soldier.

 

Even with the calluses that came with using a bow, Leon’s hands were elegant and practiced as they carved out dowels of wood and set them onto the table. His motions were precise and well-practiced, as if he was making something more than weaponry each time he set down a fletched, carved and balanced arrow.

 

There was more than one occasion where Conrad had gotten annoyed, but more often, he had been surprised. One moment, Leon was grousing, and the next, he wasknocking gargoyles from the sky with perfectly-aimed arrows. Or, in a decidedly un-fussy manner,cleaning game that he had hunted down in the course of a morning with an old knife, humming happily to himself.

 

Conrad wasn’t entirely sure which Leon he would talk to. But he wasn’t raised to be impolite by the Sage that had taught him everything he knew.

 

“Hello, Leon.” He mustered as friendly and detached a greeting as he could. “Replenishing some arrows?”

 

“Well, I’ve been burning through my stock of them faster,” the other man’s voice was stiff and guarded. “If I keep having to shoot at _Necrodragons_ before your sister roasts them with magic, then I’ll have to make better ammunition.”

 

Of all the monsters they had come across that emerged from the earth or sky, summoned by Duma’s followers, the dragons had been the toughest to fight off. 

 

“For a knight, you do quite a bit of work that’s not very knightly.” Conrad looked up from his writing as Leon spoke agaon. He blinked, unsure how to respond.

 

“Washing clothes? Peeling vegetables? I’ve always assumed you were too good for that sort of thing,”

 

“I don’t know about other knights,” Conrad added a few more things for Celica onto his log, smiling, “but I can’t really rest unless everything gets done.” 

 

That coaxed a smile out of the archer, which he considered a minor victory, considering that they had seldom spoke before.

 

“You have a very sweet nature. Has anyone ever told you that?”

 

A flicker of a pleased grin appeared across Conrad’s face for the briefest of moments. “Not for quite some time, no. But I suppose that I can add another occasion to that count as of today.”

 

“Be proud of that,” replied Leon. “I don’t hand out that compliment to just anyone.”

 

Conrad had always told himself that he didn’t have enough time to get to know people. Not when Celica depended on him to keep her safe, and the kingdom that had rejected him as a bastard still needed a knight to ride out on its behalf.But that hadn’t been true, entirely.

 

He had spent quite some time placing his heart and his hopes in wanting the court to like him. But that had never been a game that Conrad had a chance at winning. And so, even before he had been banished by the attack and donned a mask, he lived in a state of exile.

 

“Leon,” he asked, a question forming on his mind that, for whatever reason, he really wanted the archer to answer. “ What is it that you’d like to do after the War?”

 

In reply, Leon raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly. Clearly, Conrad had pushed his luck.

 

“Uh—you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” he added hurriedly. That was impolite, to ask someone so suddenly.

 

“Sleep,” answered Leon at last. “For a year, maybe. Honestly, there’s so much I need to take a break from,” He grimaced, seting down the last of the arrows he had been carving in a neat cluster, before sliding them into a leather quiver at the side of the table.

 

“I mean, suppose I survive, by the Mother’s Mercy, because I’ve got people to fight for.” He held up a finger. “Not just in that weird royal sense that you or the Princess do. The question is what I’ll have my heart set on next. And honestly…”

 

Leon ran a hand through his hair, and his voice grew flustered. “I’m a little jealous of the both of you. Of that purpose you’re given.” 

 

So Conrad hadn’t been completely off about the archer’s ambitions. But it had surprised him that the motivation hadn’t been about the steady gold or the life that was quiet and still, and so unlike one of a mercenary’s.

 

“The people of Zofia do not see me as a Prince, Leon.” Conrad supposed that the words should have made him sad, but in truth, that was a weight that he had become accustomed to. “I would have gladly given my heart to it as a prince, but that was not the fate that I was given.” As a child, it had broken him. But as a young man, he was relieved that at last, the truth of it was something he could accept, like a shadow that followed him wherever he went.

 

“And yet, your devotion to it is something nobody can question,” This time, when Conrad looked up from writing in his logbook, he saw that Leon had moved closer and was looking at him curiously. The attention startled him, so that his usually neat handwriting had turned into an incomphrehensible squiggle. Frustrated, he shut the book, half knowing he wouldn’t be able to get anything done, and half because he wanted to know what Leon thought.The way Leon spoke of survival, of purpose, and of devotion was true— truer than anyone else Conrad had seen speaking on such things. It was the trueness of steel in a person that had been battered about like it, in battle and in matters of the heart. Of that, he hadn’t needed to be a Sage to know. He had wished for that conviction, too.

 

“I may not be a true prince of this kingdom,” he answered, “but I am prepared to lay down my life for it all the same. And so,” Conrad held out his mask, smiling ruefully, “my true face and who I really am doesn’t matter.”

 

“Dear, dear Sir Conrad…” Leon’s voice was sweet, then suddenly turned as sharp as the point of one of his arrows in a split second. “Never say that about yourself again.”

 

“…Say what?” For a second, Conrad almost wished he had the mask on— disguised, disaffected, and not risking everything that he had thought to be true. That had made things easier in finding Celica, and in fending off whatever wanted to hurt her.

 

“You can’t just say that who you are doesn’t matter,” Leon explained, as of Conrad was a small child in need of things worded in simpler terms. “Because there is nobody— absolutely nobody else— that can take your place.” He reached out andplaced a hand over Conrad’s tunic, right over the heart that suddenly sped up at his touch. Everything else vanished, save the words and the way that Leon was looking at him, figuring out what was good about him before he was able to.

 

Then, sliding his seat back, Leon gathered his quiver and bow.“Don’t waste a single second of the time you have. And I’ll be watching carefully, Conrad, to make sure you don’t.” Grinning, he set off into the afternoon, as if he’d learned something new and pleasant, like a good recipe or the name of an inexpensive sweetshop.

 

Leon was no courtier, thought Conrad, watching him go, because he was far truer than anyone he had ever met as a child in court. He was something else entirely, and regardless of what luck lay ahead, Conrad wanted to plan for their paths to cross again.And once something was written into his plans, he would make sure that he would see it through.


End file.
